Arainai Zevran Arainai
by Shadow of Light
Summary: A Secret Santa gift for Corker of the BSN. She requested Zevran in a James Bond style escapade. I chose to go with the laser death-trap scene from Goldfinger, casting the villain as Xai Merras of The Hunt/Kill, since she says she loves the bastard xD


(Inspired by the laser death-trap in Goldfinger.)

It wouldn't have been the first time Zevran Arainai regained consciousness on a rack, but this one felt…peculiar. It wasn't wood, for starters. It was as hard and smooth as polished marble beneath his spread-eagled body, but pleasantly warm. He tested the oiled leather restraints binding his wrists and ankles with a few subtle twists of his limbs, then gave up his pretence of unconsciousness when a male throat chuckled, the sound close enough for him to assume he was being observed from a vantage, and with no little amount of amusement.

"I must say, Mister Arainai," the Antivan-accented voice said as his eyes opened and tried to focus in the blue-tinted gloom, "you're almost as good as you think you are. Your organisation chose its spy well. A pity you're such a fool for a pretty pair of eyes."

"I assure you, ser," Zevran replied, trying for his usual confident purr, "I was admiring more than the lady's eyes."

"I'm sure you were." The Crow Master Xai Merras leaned comfortably on the metal railing above, smiling down at him as one hand gestured, pointing. "How do you like it? The last bed you'll ever lie in, Mister Arainai."

Zevran lifted his torso as far as his restraints allowed so could to look down towards his feet, and almost swore aloud. The source of the blue glow suffusing the room was the slab he was bound to—a massive block of lyrium. He'd known Merras was dealing in the illegal lyrium trade—that's why Zevran was _here_, but he hadn't expected to find such tangible evidence in such a way!

"The lyrium is sheathed in a clear crystal the dwarves favour for shielding radiation," Xai told him conversationally. "Alas, pure lyrium would kill you far too quickly. Happily, given time, you'll still be able to feel it as such close range, Mister Arainai. Discomfort, physical and mental, followed by madness, raving and death. I expect you will lose control over your bowels in two hours. It won't be pretty."

"_Two hours_?" Zevran echoed, looking up without lowering his head to the slab. Given the circumstances, he wanted to touch the lyrium as little as possible from now on. "That sounds…far too slow a demise, no?"

Xai practically beamed. "I heartily agree! That's what this is for." He lifted an arm to a metal contraption overhead, some sort of machine twined with more lyrium, and ending in a strange-looking rod. The whole of it was attached to a rail that, Zevran noticed, passed completely over the lyrium slab from head to base. He saw the chain and pulley, and frowned while the Crow touched the point of the rod with a finger. "This part is fun, I think. A rod of fire, liberated from the Circle of Magi. When activated it emits a beam of intense heat, capable of cutting through metal."

He gripped the chain and pulled, sending the machine rolling with well-oiled soundlessness towards the end of the slab. Zevran's golden eyes followed it like a bird watches a snake, barely remembering to breathe and unconsciously testing and retesting his restraints in the hopes of loosening them.

When the machine stopped there was a faint clicking sound, then a line of red light shot from the end of the rod to strike the very edge of the lyrium block, perfectly aligned between Zevran's spread feet. The air around the beam was hazy with heat-shimmer. As Zevran continued to watch, he realised the machine was moving back towards Xai, towards Zevran's head, with deceptively slow speed.

Unfortunately, the beam would reach the junction of his bound and spread thighs much sooner than his head.

"It should take about three minutes to cut you completely in half, although," Xai mused, "But I suspect you're more concerned about something else being severed right now." He chuckled. "Or should that be 'dismembered'?"

"Do you mean to interrogate me, Merras?" Zevran demanded. "Is that what this is for? Do you expect me to talk?"

Xai laughed. "No, Mister Arainai, I expect you to die! You know absolutely _nothing_, and I assure you that I am not the only Crow who's had enough of listening to the sound of your voice." He pushed away from the railing, a smile still on his lips. "_Goodbye_, Mister Arainai."

Zevran's gaze flicked back to the beam's progress. It was halfway towards his groin already, and a small wisp of vapour hissed up from where it struck the shielded lyrium. Swallowing, trying to maintain his calm, he glanced back up to the empty balcony and called, "Merras! I _do _know something! What of…" his mind flailed wildly for something that might be _just enough _to pique the other man's interest. "What of…Operation Vigilance?"

There was a breath of silence, and then Xai was back at the rail, leaning casually and with a sly smile teasing his lips. "Well? What of it?"

"I know all about it, my friend," Zevran lied, trying not to speak too quickly and betray his desire for haste. "And should I die here, my successor will pick up where I left off."

The other man grinned. "Hopefully he'll do a better job, then."

"If I remain alive, they will have no reason to send another spy, yes?" Zevran couldn't help glancing back at the beam, which was now close enough that he _had _to squirm back in his restraints for what extra distance it could afford. "You could keep me locked up, unable to act, without needing to worry about a new spy you won't know the identity of."

Xai lifted a dark brow. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But giving me two words is hardly proof that you or your organisation knows a thing, Mister Arainai…I could be waiting for a new spy who turns out to be as clueless as I think _you_ are."

"Better safe than sorry, no?"

The Master Crow just smirked at him.

Again the beam drew Zevran's eyes. _Maker's breath_, it was close! Less than a finger's length from finding cloth and flesh. The elf pulled back against his straps, hearing the leather creak in protest and feeling the sting of pain in his ankles, then lifted his gaze to the watching Crow once more, hiding his mounting desperation as best he could.

He wasn't falling for it. And Agent Arainai was out of options…

Zevran took a breath and clenched his fists, trying futilely to brace himself as a thin trail of smoke wisped up from his trousers when the edge of the beam reached it and scorched the cloth—

The beam, and the low hum emitted by the rod, abruptly cut off.

"Better safe than sorry," Xai agreed in a cheerful voice.

_Bastard_, Zevran thought, not quite managing to conceal a filthy glare.

"After all, they might send someone _competent _next time." The Crow sighed. "Well. Stick around, I suppose. I'll send one of the dwarves to untie you and escort you to a cell in…oh…let's say a couple of hours?"

"But…the lyrium—"

"Oh, don't worry about that. It takes longer than two hours for any _lasting _effects to sink in." Xai grinned at him and disappeared from view, his voice calling back over the sound of his receding footsteps: "You'll recover, Mister Arainai! I just need to keep you _alive_, don't I?"

Zevran bit his tongue hard to keep from cursing and gave his restraints a vicious yank.

They didn't give.

_Brasca!_


End file.
